It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
by POGs
Summary: there really is not explanation for what we've done! Well there is, but I'm not sure it would make it any better.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is yet another pea-fic by Katie and Em, and is definitely the oddest yet. We mean no offence to any religious types, and only want to spread some Christmas cheer.**_

_**We also own nothing!**_

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It was a comparatively late start by their standards, as a morning meeting drew to a close around the sturdy table of the Forgery Suite. Six pairs of eyes watched Harry suspiciously, unsure of what to make of what they'd been told. 

"I'm as unhappy about this as you are, but it's our duty. The other sections do theirs, and we must do ours," he said, in acknowledgement of a particularly desperate look from Ros. This was her idea of hell. Quite an irony really, she thought.

"I pulled together an inventory of equipment from the last time we had to do something like this," Malcolm interrupted, sounding fully in control. "If you could all compile a list of your requirements, I can issue you with the kit you need by 11am."

"Shouldn't we assign ourselves roles first?"

"You can do that later, right now I just need to know we're all agreed to do this."

A mumble of 'Yes Harry's echoed from all directions bar one.

"Zaf?"

"It's too soon, Harry. We can't pull it off. We don't have the time or the man power."

"It shouldn't be too hard to do, it's been done before. All the information is accessible to us and we've got desk staff to call upon don't forget. We're not a team of seven you know."

"What's the target date?"

"Friday night - it gives us three days," Adam answered, before Harry could open his mouth.

"Thank you, Adam. Right, everyone know what they're doing?" They nodded, some more reluctantly than others. "Good. First rehearsal at 11. See you all then."

---

"Can I be the Angel?" Jo asked, no sooner were they out of the door.

"Gabriel?" Ros asked, with distain.

"Uh hu. I want to wear angel wings."

"Kill me now," she muttered. "You do realise –"

"– that Gabriel was male?" finished Malcolm.

"Well I'll be the angel Gabriella then, unless one of you blokes wants to strap on the tinsel wings."

There was a silence until somebody muttered something about her short hair. She shot a look in the general direction of the comment and stormed off.

"I call Herod," drawled Ros. Zaf, Adam and Malcolm all looked at her. "What? If I'm going to be made to suffer being in a nativity, at least give me the satisfaction of a juicy character."

Zaf shook his head. "Nice to see the true Christmas spirit is alive and well in us all."

"Speaking us 'us all', were are Harry and Ruth?" Adam asked.

"Ruth's in the registry," Jo called. Her strop had evidently not extended to taking her out of ear shot, and she was loitering by the photocopier, toying with a piece of paper. "I think Harry's gone to see the Home Secretary."

"They need roles," Malcolm pointed out.

"Oh, I'm more than aware of that," Adam replied, smirking.

"You're not!?" Jo exclaimed, scurrying back over.

"Oh, I am."

"You do know that Harry will kill you for this?"

"He won't have a chance if it's the only part left, will he?"

She thought about it for a second, chanced a look at the others and noticed the sly grins creeping onto their faces. It seemed they were all agreed. After all, no-one had said they weren't allowed to have fun.

"I'd like to be Gasper."

" Casper? As in the ghost?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes at Zaf. "Gasper! One of the three wise men, or three Kings as they are sometimes known."

"Oh _that_ Gasper." Zaf replied, somewhat sarcastically.

"I think I'll see if Matthew and James from IT support fancy being Melchior and Balthasar," Malcom muttered in Adam's general direction.

"Good idea, Malcolm."

"Hold on, what about me?!" Zaf whined.

There was a brief pause before everyone chorused, "Shepherd."

"A shepherd? Isn't there a better suited part for me?"

"You could always be the donkey," Ros drawled and the other three tried to suppress their sniggers.

Zaf glared at Ros and muttered something under his breath.

"How about Head Shepherd mate?" Adam implored, before an all out slanging match was declared.

"Yeah, ok." He tried not to sound like a petulant child, but didn't quite manage it. "What are you going to be?"

"The Narrator."

---

By 11 am, most of the group reassembled in the forgery suite, a slight buzz of excitement filtering around the room as Malcolm entered with the prop and costume box. There was a squeal from Jo as she was handed her wings, and immediately set about telling Ros her plans to improve upon the design. Both were agreed that more tinsel was needed; whoever had used them last had left them in a rather sorry state. Ruth slipped into the room a few minutes late and tried not to laugh at everyone as they were in various states of undress. It seemed they were all eager to test the costumes and props out.

"That's a rather fetching hat Malcolm!" she teased "One of the three Kings I take it?"

He whipped off the hat and did a mock bow "Gasper, at your service."

She let out a brief laugh. "Do I, um, have a part yet?"

"You do." He smiled at her. "You're Mary."

"Oh I didn't expect, erm well not that I'm not happy to do it but I thought maybe Jo would be playing Mary."

"She's much more interested in getting to wear tinsel wrapped around coat hangers and pretend she has a real pair of angel wings," interrupted Adam, who was holding three different bibles. "We all know Ros is more likely to frighten a small child than anything else, so that leaves you, Ruth."

Looking at Ros, who was shooting death glares at the back of Adam's head, Ruth now understood her costume. She had wondered why she was trying out fake beards.

"So, um, who's Jos..."

"I think you're costume is over here, Ruth," Malcolm garbled as he pulled out a simple dress and a pillow from the props box.

"Oh, right, yes," she muttered, distractedly, and wandered over to where Malcolm was standing, leaving the others to breathe a sigh of relief.

Ten minutes later, a slightly frazzled Harry stepped into the forgery suite and rolled his eyes at the sight before him. Here were his finest officers dressed up like excited school children about to perform their first Christmas show.

"I do hope that some work has been done today," he stated, loudly, and was rewarded by a slightly embarrassed hush. "Just as I thought."

"Ah, Harry! Just in time to try your costume on."

"Costume?" he asked, blankly. "Since when does the Narrator wear a costume?"

"He doesn't, but Joseph does."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Raise your hand if you think we'll have this finished by Christmas...**

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Harry swallowed audibly. "I beg your pardon?"

He would have waited for an answer, but his attention was drawn to a muffled squeak in the corner of the room, and he turned to see Ruth standing, statue-still, cord belt in one hand, doll in the other. Nobody spoke as they watched him, watching her, watching him.

"You'll be needing this," Zaf eventually volunteered, pressing a coarse material into Harry's arms and making a hasty retreat, beckoning the others to follow. Harry didn't acknowledge him, except to take the garment in his arms a little more securely.

"Hi." Ruth eventually broke the silence. "They neglected to mention who was Joseph."

"Obviously," he replied, amused at her own state as much as his own, and regaining some sense of composure. "You probably could have guessed."

"I'm not sure I…why?"

"You're the analyst, Ruth, you tell me."

"Um, I … I have files that need to be in the registry by noon." She brushed past him, unable to meet his eye any longer for fear of what she would find there. It was becoming increasingly difficult to deny that there was something between them and yet, for all her longing, she couldn't quite accept it.

He watched as she retreated and sighed, loudly. This was going to be a long week if she kept on running at this pace; he only hoped he could keep up.

---

"Malcolm, why do I have three Bibles when one will suffice?" Adam asked as he dropped the stack of holy books on to his desk.

"Ah, well. I thought it best to be prepared, after all the versions do differ slightly depending upon the Bible and the Gospel. Ostensibly it's only subtle differences but..."

Hoping to avoid a lengthy theological lesson, Adam cut him off. "Which version do you recommend?"

"The King James Bible, Luke's Gospel." He watched as Adam pulled the middle book to out and nodded at him.

"Thanks. I'll have a read through and draft a rough script so we have something to work with later on."

Everyone looked up as Harry exited the Forgery Suite, clutching his balled up costume to him and looking as if he had lost a fight with himself about taking part. A brief glare as he passed them all and headed for his office made most of them retreat to their desks. Only Zaf lingered by Adam's work station.

"Harry will explode if some work doesn't get done soon mate." Adam muttered in Zaf's direction as he pretended to read a report.

"I know. I just, well, I just wanted to make sure that you're gonna give me some good lines."

"It's the Nativity Zaf, I can't let you give a monologue!"

"Well no, but I am the Head Shepherd. That must count for something. I could always sing 'While Shepherds watch their flocks by night', you know really set the scene."

Adam tried not to choke on the laughter that he felt bubbling up inside him, covering his barely suppressed mirth with a cough, he schooled his face into what he hoped was a look of sincerity and said. "Thanks for the offer mate; I'll bare it in mind."

Happy that he was finally getting a decent role Zaf slapped him on the shoulder and went back to his own desk. He was looking forward to seeing the script and hoped that Adam managed to sort it all out by the time they rehearsed at Seven O'clock.

---

It was, perhaps, inevitable that most of the afternoon was dominated by talk of the forthcoming play. Whilst Harry had disappeared from the Grid, mumbling something to Adam about an errand to run, his staff had taken advantage of his absence to chat about the intricacies of creating a successful nativity.

It was agreed, by the majority, that a real ambience would be needed and to that effect the group set about coming up with ideas of how to make the performance 'real'.

"Oh, we could always have an actual donkey!" said Jo excitedly. She had finally stopped re-tinselling her wings and gazed at them in satisfaction as she held them up to the light for closer inspection, unaware that her five colleagues were looking at her as if she were deranged.

"Princess, have you taken your medication today?" Ros asked, in an overly sweet voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means that it's a stupid idea."

"If it's good enough for The Vicar of Dibley, then it's not a stupid idea, is it?" huffed the young blonde as she looked imploringly at the others to back her up.

"It's not a bad idea Jo..." Here, Jo shot a triumphant smirk at Ros, who rolled her eyes at Ruth as she spoke, "but I think it would be hard to get a donkey to behave properly on stage and it might get scared with all the lights and noise. I think that's what Ros was trying to say."

There was a definite mumble of what sounded like 'yeah, right' from Ros, which she swiftly turned into a cough as the others glared at her. "I have work to do," she retorted and stalked off to her own desk.

Jo followed her with her eyes, before turning her attention back to the assembled group.

"I still don't exactly follow why we're having to do this," Jo said, throwing her head back and letting out a long breath.

"Who do you work for?" asked Malcolm. "Not what you tell us, but what you tell other people."

"Well, my mum thinks I switched from journalism into working for the council in their publications department – you know, writing up leaflets, press statements – seemed like the smallest leap of any of the job choices offered as my legend."

"And what about Zaf, what do his family think he does?"

"They think he works in planning."

"Also at the council," Malcolm pointed out. "The point is, we have to have people at the council who will vouch for all of you should someone ask. They have to have false employment records, wages, disciplinary files, targets and minutes of meetings all with your details included, just in case. They don't ask for much in return – they don't have much choice – but every year, they ask for some input into the local festivities, and so each year, we send one section to put forward a small performance for the borough Christmas play. There are always various church groups, operatic and drama societies and schools there. It's a pretty good evening, actually."

"Wes's school is doing it this year. They're doing 'Christmas Number Ones through the decades' or something," Adam added.

"Oh," replied Jo, "…right."

---

It was later that afternoon when the shrill sound of her phone ringing caught Ruth's attention, and she absent-mindedly lifted the handset and put it to her ear.

"Ruth." Her gaze automatically shifted from the computer screen in front of her, to his office. Her eyes met through the glass as he spoke. "I'd like to speak to you for a moment."

She nodded and waited for him to carry on, offering him a confused smile when he didn't immediately speak. "Harry?"

"In here Ruth. I want you to come to my office."

"Oh! Oh, ok." As she hung up and hurried over to his office she could sense him watching her, his warm gaze washing over her in an achingly familiar way. She imagined his eyes sweeping over her body and was beginning to feel slightly warm by the time she opened the door to his office and stepped inside.

She fiddled nervously with the pen in her hands, weaving it between her fidgeting fingers, as she stood in front of his desk. "Sorry, I, uh, my mind was elsewhere. What do you need?"

"Nothing. I, um, I have something for you." He was out of his seat and closing the blinds before she had a chance to process what he had said.

"Harry?!" Her voice had risen a few octaves, resulting in his name coming from her lips in a squeak rather than her normal voice. She coughed and tried again. "Harry, w-what are you..."

She trailed off as the blinds slid to a close and the room was cast into shadow. She took an involuntary step back as he moved from the window and ended up walking into his desk and knocking his pen holder over. As she scrabbled about putting things back where they were, he collected a sturdy carrier bag from the side of the couch and advanced towards her.

"Leave the pens Ruth, it doesn't matter," he murmured as he reached her.

She turned and was both alarmed and excited by his proximity. Frantically she tried to push away the thought that he was going to kiss her; the moment the blinds had closed it had been all she could think about. She had been giving herself a stern warning not to be so stupid whilst she sorted his desk out only to turn and find that he was so close to her she could smell his aftershave and see the slight five o'clock shadow on his chin. Her heart beat frantically as her eyes met his and she decided that if he kissed her that second she would return it with enthusiasm.

"Here. This is for you." His whisper sent a shiver down her spine and she had to concentrate very hard on what he was saying. Her gaze followed his as it dropped to where his arm extended out to her, his hand clutching a bag. "I, well, I thought you might appreciate it."

There was a pause as she looked at him, seemingly confused as to what she was supposed to do. At the slight shake of the bag she regained some of her faculties and took it from him, opening the handles and peering inside.

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**A review would be lovely...go on it is Christmas afterall!**


	3. Chapter 3

**We're trying our best to get this finished by New Year...since we both get carried away slightly that may not happen! **

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"C-ostumes?" she stuttered, confused by the turn of events. Less than a minute ago, she was convinced he was going to kiss her and now he was presenting her with a costume which, whilst nicer than the one she had previously been issued with, still looked liked it was made of something Grandma had sewn together in a hurry.

"Well the ones in the prop box were scratchy and, well, they had a definite odour about them. I thought you deserved something a bit nicer," he added, bashfully. "Although when I asked what the costume hire place had for Joseph, he tried to present me with a Technicolour Dreamcoat. It took some explaining that those Josephs weren't one and the same before I could get my own costume sorted."

She suppressed a sudden giggle and clamped her hand to her mouth. "Sorry, shouldn't laugh," she sniggered. "The state of modern Religious Education, hey?"

"He was about 85, Ruth," Harry replied, deadpan, which only increased Ruth's barely suppressed hysterics further. He smiled at her, and then dragged the subject back to costumes. "Anyway, I really didn't know your size or anything. I hope it fits."

"I'm sure it will be lovely. Thank you." She placed her hand on his bicep and squeezed it before impulsively pulling up on tip toes and pressing her lips to the slightly rough stubble of his cheek.

Her face was still next to his and he heard her gasp loudly in his ear at her own audacity.

"I'll, er, try them on. N-not here, I don't mean, I, er, in the Forgery Suite. Not that you need to know where I'm changing or anything."

She was out of his office again before he could reply to any of it.

His fingers absently stroked over the spot where her lips had brushed softly against his cheek, a slow smile spread across his handsome features as he closed his eyes and replayed the moment in his mind. A wave of embarrassment engulfed him as someone coughed and his eyes popped open to find Adam slouched in his doorway with a knowing look on his face.

"Not a word," he growled, dropping his hand from where it had rested and narrowing his eyes at the younger man. "Don't think I don't know that you are responsible for the casting."

"I don't know what you mean, Harry."

"Yes, you do. Stop meddling."

"Ah, so there is something to meddle in, then?"

"Adam..."

"Ok, ok." The look in the older mans eyes was enough to warn him from making any further comments for now. "I came to tell you that Wes is in the show and wants to make sure Uncle Harry will be watching."

At the mention of the little boy, Harry's features softened. "Tell him I wouldn't dream of missing it. What's he doing?"

"Singing."

"Well I hope to God he has his Mother's voice and not yours!"

"I could have a great voice for all you know."

"At the last Christmas party you got drunk and I took you home, during which time you serenaded me with a selection of Christmas hits. Need I say more?"

Despite trying to fight it, he could feel the embarrassment seeping in. "No." Eager to change the subject he reminded Harry of the rehearsal time and made a quick escape from the suddenly very warm office.

---

As seven o'clock rolled around, the Grid seemed even more of a hive of activity than mid op, and props and costumes littered desks, scripts half buried under them.

Harry strolled out of his office on the dot. "Right, time is of the essence. We stay until we can do this. We're here all night if we have to be."

A collective sigh rose up.

"Look, most of today is already gone. That only gives us all day tomorrow and Friday. Juliet is in from 11am onwards tomorrow, so I don't think she needs to see us rehearsing. This is our only main chance to go through it as a whole cast until Friday afternoon's dress rehearsal."

A round of reluctant nods circled him, before turning into more enthusiastic smiles when he announced he'd brought mince pies and mulled wine with him for when they'd finished. Suddenly, everyone was in a much more focused mindset.

"Right," Adam piped up. "I've volunteered to help Malcolm out by doing a bit of directing seeing as I'm narrating anyway. Can we, provisionally, put on the essentials of our costume and gather any props we need?"

"Essentials?"

"Well I just mean I don't need everyone scurrying off for a full change – just put your wings on, Jo, Malcolm, your crown and Zaf, tea towel please."

There was a choking, spluttering kind of sounds. "A tea towel. Woah, woah, nobody said anything about a tea towel."

"Erm, it's the nativity, mate."

"Yes, I _am_ familiar with it, despite my upbringing. I'm also not six anymore – no tea towels."

There was a small pause as Adam and Ros looked at each other. "Tea towel," the said, in unison, one grabbing the cloth and the other a length of elastic, and between them unceremoniously plonking it over his head.

Trying not to laugh at the look on Zaf's face, Harry pressed on. "What roles do everyone else have?"

"Well obviously you know who Mary is..." Adam answered, "I'm the Narrator. Ros is Herod. Jo is the Angel Gabriel..."

"Gabriella." Corrected the young blonde with a smile.

"Sorry Gabriella." He rolled his eyes at Harry. "Malcolm, Matt and James are the Three Wise Men and Zaf is a shepherd."

"Head shepherd." Said an indignant Zaf as he shook his Crook for emphasis, making Harry splutter. "Well, it was that or a donkey."

A slightly raised eyebrow was followed by a mutter from Harry that sounded suspiciously like, "Good, I'm not leading you round the bloody stage with Ruth straddling you!"

A disbelieving look from Ruth indicated that he had been louder than intended. "Shall we get started?"

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**It's simple really, you leave a shiny new review and we'll post another chapter. It's already written too...**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Don't say we aren't good to you! _**

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"Stop, stop. It's no good." Adam shouted from his seat at the front of the room. "Harry, Ruth what are you both doing?" 

At the blank looks from his two colleagues, Adam got up and walked over to where they were both stood. "Mary is supposed to be in labour; she can't just jump off the donkey and run into the stable. Joseph is going to have to carry her inside and then help deliver the baby. We want excitement and fear; we need to really feel that something truly amazing is about to happen."

Not giving either Harry or Ruth a chance to respond, he walked back to his 'Director's' chair, clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention and shouted: "From the Inn Keepers line, please."

Ruth felt entirely ridiculous as she sat on the chair which had been designated as the stand in donkey for the time being, and pretended to be having labour pains. Having no previous experience of childbirth, she did her best, clutching her makeshift belly and alternating between grunts of pain and panting breaths. Momentarily stunned, Harry stood watching Ruth's performance and, as a result, had to be prompted by Malcolm, who was filling in as the Inn Keeper.

"Help me, please. Do you have any room to spare? My wife is with child."

"A stable is all I can offer." Malcolm pointed in the direction of the stable as Harry thanked him.

Rushing back to Ruth's side, he tried not to think about the fact that he had just slid his hands beneath Ruth's bottom, or that she was pressed tightly against his chest as her arms twined round his neck in order for him to lift her. He carried her across the makeshift stage before setting her down on the floor gently, their eyes meeting briefly before they both looked away. She was still half in his arms and half laid on the floor, her breath coming in shallow pants which had far more to do with Harry's proximity than any acting she was doing.

"Good, that's better."

As Adam's voice sounded out in the quiet room, Harry realised that he was still holding onto Ruth and immediately removed his arms, the unexpected and sudden movement causing Ruth to fall backwards until she was lying in an ungainly heap on the floor.

A series of eye rolls occurred almost in unison, and Adam sank his head into his palms. Picking Harry and Ruth as the leads was all very well and good in terms of amusement and the potential that they might just get their acts together, but he hadn't reckoned on just how difficult they might find it to act together in any capacity. It was going to be a long night unless he spoke up soon.

"Harry, Ruth, a word, if I may?"

The two of them strode over, even Harry looking wary of what might be said.

"I need you to try relaxing into your roles. You aren't Harry and Ruth, you are Mary and Joseph. Just let go a bit, and remember that whatever you do is as them, not yourselves."

Ruth was flushing scarlet at the hidden implication of his words. She knew that Adam was hinting that any awkwardness was arising from their difficulty to act as a couple without inadvertently causing speculation about the nature of their real relationship.

---

It had taken several attempts, following Adam's pep talk, before the birthing scene approached anything near a passable standard, but slowly and surely, the pair were becoming more comfortable together, and the rest of the team broke away from their own small rehearsals to gather around as Mary and Joseph progressed onto the next stage of the story.

"Right, now I want you to remember, this is the birth of your first child. A miraculous moment in any instance, but this is the son of God. I want to be able to see that amazement between you. Your bond. Ruth, I need you to pick up baby Jesus and cradle him in your arms. Harry, I need Joseph to come around behind Mary, and wrap your arms protectively around both of them. Ok?"

They both nodded, and resumed their positions on the makeshift stage.

Ruth waited for the cue, and leant forward to the manger, lifting out the small doll, wrapped in swaddling, and clutched it lightly to her chest, gently swaying. As she stood, babe in arms, and softly traced a finger across its cheek, she felt the strong warmth of Harry's arms encompass her, pulling her body tighter against his than was strictly necessary, almost flush against him. His head tucked itself over her shoulder, cheek to cheek as Joseph looked fondly down on his little miracle, and Harry's breath came soft and steady against her ear, falling on her skin in time with every other beat of her racing pulse.

"Perfect," cried Adam, pleased that they seemed to have been able to let go of themselves enough to fall into character and get on with things, away from the nerves which had so far hindered them.

"Can we take it from your arrival at the inn until that point?"

His question was greeted with a silence all round. Neither his audience of fellow actors, nor the stars themselves, seemed to be listening. Instead, all eyes were on Mary and Joseph, as Ruth slowly turned in Harry's arms, still holding baby Jesus, Harry's arms now lower, looped around the back of her waist.

"N-nicely done," she managed to stutter, barely a whisper above the hush which had fallen.

He dipped his head a little lower, to speak to her more intimately, seemingly oblivious to all around them. "Thank you. Adam was right; I had to go with my instincts."

Her eyes rose to his, holding his gaze, steady and sure. It was like a thousand moments they had shared before, and yet something was different, some quality in the air. She was suddenly aware of the small figure she clasped to her breast, and there was something strangely and beautifully right about it, as she looked into those amber-brown eyes.

The moment was broken by a small cough from Adam; excited as he was about what might pass between them, he was afraid that this was not the time, and knew that neither Harry nor Ruth would later think it so either, should they forget themselves in the moment.

"I think they're forgetting it was an immaculate conception," Zaf said, in a stage whisper, sending Ruth scurrying stage left, a scarlet blush prominent against her porcelain complexion.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Another update :O It must be Christmas!!**

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Despite the set backs of Wednesday night, rehearsals had generally gone well for the team, and Thursday day time was spelt alternately performing normal duties, sipping copious amounts of coffee and various groups sneaking off to the forgery suite to cram in ten minutes practice between meetings and briefings. In fact, by the time Friday afternoon rolled around, and they were on their way to Islington Town Hall, they were considerably better rehearsed than anyone would have anticipated.

Harry, Ruth, Adam and Ros arrived half an hour late, to find Malcolm, James and Matt taking shelter behind Zaf and Jo as they held a heated argument with a short, balding, bespectacled man. His collar looked overly starched and his tie too tight, although Ruth couldn't quite decide whether that was the cause for his red face, or the fact that Zaf was waving a finger under his nose.

Harry strode over, confidently. "Problem?"

"Ah, our Mr Pearce, I presume. Yes. Your lateness, as a matter of fact."

"I was trying to explain that the security of the nation does not always allow for precision time keeping of nativity rehearsals," Zaf ground out, teeth gritted, head cocked and shooting daggers at Snooty Council Man.

"As I have already stated, _we_ are doing you the favour so the least you could do is be here on time."

Zaf opened his mouth to retort but was beaten to it by Harry, who calmly apologised. "You're quite right Mr..." he held out his hand and paused waiting for the other man to say his name, "Gray. I'm terribly sorry for any delay. I assure you it won't happen again."

Appeased, the Council man smiled and shook Harry's hand. "Sorry, it's just we've already had a couple of set backs and I was beginning to panic. Call me Daniel. If you could all take your positions on stage, we'll begin."

"Of course."

Daniel happily wandered away to the front of the stage, leaving the spooks to get ready for the big rehearsal. Harry turned to the group to find them all looking at him as if he had suddenly sprouted another head.

"What?"

"What were you nice to him for?! He's a right stuffed shirt."

"Be that as it may, we need to maintain a good relationship with the Council, Zaf. I will not be dragged in front of the DG for a bollocking over Council relations, so we're all on our best behaviour, even me."

"Well, we'd better get dressed and on stage if we don't want to upset him any further," Ruth said quietly.

Harry offered her a warm smile and held stretched his arm out in front of them both. "After you."

A light blush stained her pale cheeks as she brushed past him.

---

Twenty minutes later and the rehearsal was in full swing: Daniel had only interrupted twice to make suggestions, and he was impressed by Section D's commitment to the show. It was obvious to those watching that they had been practicing.

As Ruth and Harry went through the motions of the birth scene at one side of the stage, Zaf and his shepherds, along with Jo, moved into position for their scene. As she clambered up on to a box, which was decorated as a hillside, she noticed that Zaf was listening to his iPod.

"Zaf!" she hissed at him, "Harry will go mad if you get caught with that on. Put it away."

"Don't worry, it's for research purposes." He deftly eased one ear piece out and she could just about make out the faint sound of a familiar Christmas Carol.

Rolling her eyes at him, she tried to think of what she could do without bringing attention to both of them. She eased forwards on her box, shuffling closer to where Zaf was standing, in front of her. Giving him one final chance to see sense, she pleaded with him: "Just put it in your pocket please. You heard what Harry said 'best behaviour'."

Defiantly, he shook his head and replaced his ear piece. He was unprepared for her hand to shoot out and grasp his wrist and yanked his arm back reflexively, causing Jo to lose her balance and topple from her precarious perch on the 'hillside'. In his haste to try and catch her, they ended up in a tangled heap on the floor, bickering with one another about whose fault it was as the rest of the cast on stage and in the auditorium looked on in shock.

"What," boomed Daniel, "is going on?"

Zaf looked up to find the small man's large head looming above them, peering down with distain. He was definitely back to being mentally referred to as Snooty Council Man in Zaf's book.

A hairy hand reached down and tugged the wire from Zaf's ear.

"I don't think they had these 2000 years ago," he said, and strode away, iPod in hand.

Zaf was about to protest when Jo pinched his side, hard, noting the look they were receiving from Harry. "Don't make it worse," she whispered.

---

Having struggled through a run through of each act, with varying degrees of success, the entire group of performers were now gathered on stage, blinking into the spotlight as they were addressed.

"Well done, everyone," Snooty Daniel congratulated them. I just have a few things to go through with you all."

There was a general sigh, and a fidgeting sound from the children at the front of the stage.

Snooty Council Man spoke again: "We will close the show as an ensemble. All the casts of the various short plays, as well as the choir and individual acts, will take to the stage for Away in a Manger, followed by We Wish You A Merry Christmas."

From somewhere near the back of the stage, Ros groaned, loudly. "I don't sing," she spat.

"Never mind," whispered Zaf, conspiratorially, over her shoulder. "I bet some members of this company would like to have their way in a manger." His gaze fell on Harry, who was watching Ruth across the stage as she fiddled with the swaddling blankets on her baby Jesus.

"Is your book still running?" she asked.

Daniel's continued speech cut across whatever answer Zaf was preparing to give.

"And finally, we're looking for replacements for two absentees. Jemima and Aaron of Galfast High School Sixth Form seem to be AWOL, and so we need a suitable convincing couple to perform _Baby It's Cold Outside_. Any volunteers?"

There was a hushed silence, broken by a small commotion by the far curtain. Zaf craned his next to see Wes whispering to his father, just as Daniel interrupted to ask if, indeed, a volunteer had been found.

"My Uncle Harry has a good voice."

"Perfect. Is he here?"

Several eyes seemed to somehow train themselves on Harry, despite the fact that he was unknown to the majority of the people in the auditorium. The man in charge of the spotlight seemed to cotton on, too.

Harry blinked, rapidly. "I really don't think I do have that good a voice."

"Oh, you do!" came a small voiced declaration, before its owner could shut their mouth.

"Ruth!"

She clapped her hand over her lips.

"Please, Uncle Harry?"

A chorus of Wes's school friends began to chant in unison. "Harry! Harry! Harry!"

Vowing to serve Wes nothing but liver and sprouts next time he came for dinner, Harry gritted his teeth against what he knew he was about to do. Why was it that he could refuse the demands of terrorists holding hundreds hostage, but he couldn't bring himself to disappoint a handful of enthusiastically chanting kids?

"Fine," he sighed, and turned to Ruth, who was proudly smiling at him as though he had just saved London from a nuclear bomb, "if you do it too."

"M-me?" she squeaked, eyes wide with fear. Performing the nativity was one thing, singing in public another. "I can't sing very well at all, really."

"Nonsense. You sang beautifully at the Scratch Requiem." Malcolm took a step back and hid himself behind Ros as Ruth glared daggers at him.

"Please, Auntie Ruth? Pretty please?" Wes begged her, pulling out all the stops as he added in a pouting lip and puppy dog eyes for good measure.

She tried averting her gaze in order to remain strong. However, she hadn't been prepared for Harry looking at her with an almost mirror image of Wes's expression.

Defeated, she shook her head as she muttered her agreement, and tried her hardest not to smile when the children cheered. She couldn't, however, avoid the smile that tugged on her lips as Harry smiled at her warmly.

"Excellent!" declared Daniel, as he made his way through the assembled group and towards the couple in the spotlight. "Everyone else can take a break for an hour. No longer than that please, we still have a lot of ground to cover before the show starts."

There was a loud din as the others trooped off the stage and set about gathering belongings and discussing the afternoon so far. Soon enough the masses had left and Harry and Ruth were left alone on the stage, wondering what the hell they had just got themselves into. Even Daniel had seemed to disappear, which was slightly disconcerting since he was the Director of the show.

"When did you hear me sing?" Harry asked, desperate to know, since he couldn't remember ever having done so on The Grid.

"Danny's funeral," she whispered. She could remember the way their hands had touched briefly as he passed her his handkerchief. "It was comforting."

She looked so fragile as she stood there, talking about their colleague, their friend, that he took a step closer to her and took one of her hands in his, squeezing gently before impulsively pulling it towards his mouth and brushing his lips over the back of her hand.

She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks as she glowed bright red, and her head swam with thought of how it would feel to kiss him back right now. She seemed to jerk her head in a bid to look anywhere but at his face, and her eyes came to rest on the belt of his costume. "Honestly, Harry," she whispered, "can't you dress yourself." She tugged gently at the cord where he'd missed two belt loops.

"That's a new one."

"I'm sorry?"

"Offer."

"What is?"

"It's customary to offer to get people out of their clothes, not in them," he said, with a small wink.

She spluttered, audibly, and he merely smiled in response. "You know the words to Baby It's Cold Outside?"

She nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.

"Good. Now all you need is an outfit. I'm going to pop home for one, I can drop you off if you'd like."

Pausing to calm herself at the though of two car journeys with him, she gave a soft smile and followed as he headed for the exit.

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**I think you know what we want...it's the only way to get the next chapter...**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Sorry this one took a while. Blame me (Em) - I was at work a lot this week. Sorry to Kate, too!_**

**_Sadly, not only do we not own Spooks, we don't own Baby It's Cold Outside, either. _**

* * *

"Bloody hell, Ruth!" Harry shouted up the stairs. He had already dropped her off, been home, collected an outfit and returned to hers, and she had just called out of her bedroom window for him to let himself in and wait in the hall. "Did your shoe rack explode?" 

He surveyed the old tiled floor or, more to the point, what he could still make out of it, underneath the pile of boots and heels which were spewing out from the cupboard under the stairs.

"I needed to find something. I'll be down soon. I'm just not sure if I like what I've chosen."

"Well let me see you in it before you get changed and fold it all away."

"No!" she squeaked.

"Well I'm only going to see you in it later," he called back, slightly bemused.

There was a sound which seemed, to him, like a stifled groan and the thundering of frantic footsteps interspersed with swearing, before he heard her bedroom door open and he heard her pad out onto the landing.

There was almost another full minute of cursing from Ruth before she appeared, somewhat shyly at the top of the stairs. The red dress she wore was perfect for her, it hugged her shapely figure in all the right places and despite the modest neckline Harry had never seen her display so much cleavage.

Her outfit was completed with a pair of leather knee length boots that fitted her legs perfectly, making her look even sexier. He was aware that he was staring at her but he was unable to tear his eyes away as she began to descend the stairs.

He had to clear his throat twice before he was able to find his voice. "It's um, y-you look..." a huge grin was threatening to break loose as she watched him struggle for words, "amazing."

She managed to blush and give him a dazzling smile at the same time just as she came to a halt on the bottom step. Confidence boosted a slightly mischievous twinkle entered her eyes and she gave him a slow twirl, biting her lip as she heard him swear under his breath.

"Should I get changed before we head back?" It took him a moment to register that she had spoken, so distracted was he by her curves and tempting skin. "Harry?"

"What? Erm, changed..." He was torn between wanting her to stay in the outfit so he could memorise every single inch of her and making her change into her frumpiest outfit in order that he would, at least, be able to take his eyes off of her and drive them back to the Town Hall safely. "It's probably a good idea to change. It's cold outside."

She laughed softly and headed back upstairs to change, thoughts swimming with how he had reacted to her outfit and just how close she had come to suggesting that he could keep her warm.

---

"There is your set, and here are your props," announced Daniel, the second Harry and Ruth arrived back stage. He gestured to a chaise-lounge, a hat stand, a screen and a small table set with 'whiskey' and glasses, and offered Ruth a hat.

She took it from him and turned it over in her hands. "I-I'm not sure hats suit me. Besides, it's not _You Can Leave Your Hat On_, it's not crucial to acting the song out."

There was a spluttering sound to her left and she noticed a glow on Harry's face, brought on by him imagining _exactly_ how she could act it out if that was the case.

"The line 'I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell'," Daniel said, with a cough, looking between them both.

"Er, nevermind," Ruth garbled, grabbing the hat and stuffing it onto her head, sensing the conversation was heading into dangerous waters. She strolled past Harry in the calmest way she could managed, mouthing an "Oh My God!" and cringing to the empty seats.

"If you know the words, we can just take it from the top and see what flows," Daniel suggested. "Work out a routine based on what ever you improvise right now."

Harry, who had followed Ruth and Daniel onto the stage, just shrugged and looked at Ruth to decide whether or not she was comfortable with the plan. She nodded, slowly, and Daniel strode over to a small CD player which was standing in for the sound system while the sound and lighting guys took their break.

"Off you go then."

The opening bars struck up, loudly, and Ruth make a rather timid start as she inched her way across the stage closer to Harry.

"Again." Daniel rolled his eyes. "Confidence, please."

She scurried back, dipping her head as she had stern words with her inner demons, and made a vaguely more self-assured beginning on the next attempt. She only faltered slightly as she sung the opening words, growing in confidence as Harry began to join in with his lines, and even managing a seductive half twirl as she took her coat from the stand and shrugged into it, dancing across back to where he was pouring whiskey into glasses.

In fact, it was all going rather smoothly. For each shrug into her coat, his arms fell around her, helping her out of it, and his head moved closed and closer to hers with every line he sang as he pursued her seductively across the floor. He stepped forward, and she back, but just a little less each time until eventually they were almost touching and his hands naturally came to rest on her hips as he sang with conviction, directly to her.

"I ought to say no, no, no," she sang, pressing her hand to what turned out to be a firm chest and strongly beating heart, pushing him away, as he caught her wrist and brought them both in a graceful tumble to the sofa, leaning across her body as his words played straight into her ear, his lips brushing her hair. He pulled back, his lips lingering less than an inch from hers and she had to use all the will in the world to remember her role and push herself up to standing and continue the game of cat and mouse.

He was behind her in a flash, strong hands on curvy hips, and she was no longer sure who was really leading who around the floor as she turned in his arms he pursued her until she had been almost pinned against almost every prop on the set before wrapping himself around her on the sofa once more, trailing wondering fingers up the whole length of her leg at the line, "It's up to your knees out there," and once more she had to steel herself to indignantly stand and attempt to break away, before the finale, as he dipped her flat, backwards, and hovered over her body, pressed against her on the soft material of the chaise-lounge.

Her eyes were fixed to his, and her heart was beating faster than she thought capable at what she could see returned in his. Never had she felt more aroused than with him pressing and brushing his legs against hers as they had walked together, as his breath washed across her skin, a low hum of his melody in her ears and the scent of him wafting closer and then diminishing with each flirtatious twirl and dip the song brought them. And the fire, oh the fire in his eyes as he had done it all. She inhaled, softly but deeply, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue as their gazes remained locked, and she could hear his erratic breathing and feel the rise and fall of his chest where their bodies touched.

"Goodness me, that was near perfection. How ever did you do that?"

Ruth wasn't sure if it was time, or themselves, who seemed to freeze, but nothing seemed to happen for several seconds and then, as if in some slow motion rewind, their bodies, so close to being completely united, began to untwine and separate until they sat sheepishly, side by side.

"Ricardo Montalban and Esther Williams," they both said together, and a small laugh broke the tension at the uncanny coincidence.

* * *

**_Now, there may or may not be more written...and you know there's only one way to find out! Yup, that little blue button below..._**

**_Note from EP (because she doesn't want to be sued for not crediting stuff lol): The routine they did was mainly from a combination of my head and a routine from Children in Need, but then I found an excellent youtube vid (Ricardo Montalban and Esther Williams, from Neptune's Daughter) which just personified what I was going for and, better still, was something I thought they both may possibly have seen before to base their own moves on. This won't let me link, but take a look at it :)_**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Sorry it took a while. Em wants you all to know that she is "dosed up on sugary cherry drops and typing like a secretary on speed, to make sure it never happens again."**_

* * *

"I-I'm not sure I did it justice," she mumbled. "T-the routine, I mean." 

They were still side by side on the chaise- lounge, having been left there after Daniel declared that they needed no help from him and left to go and sort out the trio of dancing snowmen who had started arguing outside.

Harry crossed his legs and tried not to think about how her body had felt, pressed so closely to his. "You did it beautifully, Ruth." He turned and offered her a smile. "I don't think I've ever felt so frustrated in my life."

He could tell she was pleased by his comment, despite the blush that swept across her cheeks. He gave himself a moment to enjoy her reaction and as a result was caught off guard as she pressed her warm body against his side, murmuring softly in his ear, "You're not the only one Harry."

He was about to pass comment with a promise that he would make sure she would be considerably less frustrated by this time tomorrow, intending to follow his pledge with a sound kiss on her full lips, when a small voice interrupted them.

"Ew, they're going to kiss!" It was on of Wes's chanting friends from earlier.

"That's what married people do, stupid!" piped up another.

"They're not married," panted Wes, skidding out from behind the curtain and colliding with a short, ginger kid. "Hey Auntie Ruth, hey Uncle Harry." The short, ginger kid now looked confused, unable to figure out the combination of auntie and uncle in relation to an unmarried couple.

"Is she your girlfriend then?" the short ginger haired kid asked Harry.

"Um, w-well I-I suppose so, o-of sorts. I-it's complicated really, you see..."

"Eugh mister, don't you know girls have the lurgy?" the boldest of the three piped up.

Harry didn't know if he was more mortified from the conversation as a whole or from the fact that he had been rendered speechless by 3 nine year olds.

"I'll come over there and kiss all three of you, if you don't bugger off!" Ruth chuckled as the three of them ran off screaming. "That did the trick I think."

"Boys," Harry said, with a roll of his eye. "I'm glad I wasn't one."

Ruth gave him a funny look and laughed.

"Bad phraseology. I meant I'm glad I wasn't like that."

"Oh, I can imagine you were quite the flirt at all ages, Harry, don't you worry."

He was captivated by the twinkle in her eye and the lovely curve of her smile, so much so that he found his hand reaching out and sweeping a lock of hair off of her face. "I must be losing my touch then; otherwise you'd never be able to resist me."

"I doubt I can for much longer, Harry." She whispered, as her gaze locked with his. "I'd just prefer to succumb to your charms without the audience we seem to have attracted."

She moved her head in the direction of the window and he could see a number of children squashed against the window, watching them. However it was the five familiar adults stood behind the row of children that caused him the most concern. Wes and his friends had obviously reported what they had walked in on moments before.

"I'm going to hold you that, before the night is over, Ms Evershed." He murmured seductively before checking his watch. "Come on, there's still time before the show starts to go and get some food."

---

Quite how she had come to be this nervous, she wasn't quite sure. It was 3 minutes to curtain-up and she wasn't even on until the second half, but suddenly her palms were clammy and her stomach was churning. As she apologetically slid past the half a dozen school parents in the fifth row of the auditorium, she felt a warm hand on the small of her back, protectively guiding her to her seat. It was odd that, after the comments about "Uncle Harry and Auntie Ruth", she should be here in the audience with him, watching the first half and looking on Wes together, as if they were all one strange family. She pulled down the seat and sat down, and their elbows bumped as they both went for the armrest. He looked at her, grinned, and gave her arm a cheeky shove, a gesture she misinterpreted and nervously folded her hands in her lap.

"I was teasing, Ruth," he whispered, above the buzz of the hall.

"Oh…erm, I don't, it's fine, I don't need it." She chewed the inside of her cheek and nearly drew blood when, startled, she bit down too hard when she felt his hand pick up hers, wrap his fingers around hers and place both their arms together on the wooden support.

"Nonsense."

She smiled and said nothing, not really trusting that anything appropriate would come to mind and content with the silence anyway.

"Wes should be up first, I think," Harry eventually ventured, as the lights dipped and the audience began to quiet. "What year is he in?"

"Five," she whispered. "Why?"

Harry released her hand and fumbled in his jacket pocket a second, and Ruth wondered if he would place his fingers back in hers when he was finished. Squinting in the dark, he tried to read the programme he'd found. "They're doing _Imagine_."

The lights went out completely as he spoke and suddenly the only sound was the rustle of his programme as it was hastily stuffed in his pocket. The curtains opened and a quartet of four year 2 boys in 60s suits began an endearingly cute rendition of _I Want to Hold Your Hand_, complete with a troupe of pigtailed year 2 girls in fluffy coats. Ruth wondered if perhaps they were projecting her thoughts through the speaker system. "I never knew this was a Christmas number one," she whispered.

"And there was me thinking your encyclopaedic knowledge would never fail," he teased.

She blushed behind her smile, and focused intently on her lap for a while, until the song wound down and she was forced to raise her head and applaud.

"They were good," she commented, to which Harry made a non-committal gesture. "Oh come on, Harry, they were cute in those little suits."

He rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied over the applause.

"You rolled your eyes."

"I was just wondering why women always get broody at a child in a 'cute' outfit."

"B-broody?"

He raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for an answer. He was clearly amused; she less so.

"You shouldn't generalise," she muttered, and focused her attention forward, trying to ignore his remark, not least because it was true.

* * *

**_Please review - we've rigged the review button up to a donation system to pay for Em's crazy medication. It's her last chance for help._**


	8. Chapter 8

**_I found more cherry drops!!! And Kate has had a mars bar!_**

* * *

Having endured the montage of hits, some distinctly lacking in Christmas references, it was time for Wes's year to perform. As the opening bars to _Imagine_ echoed through the hall, both Harry and Ruth jostled about in their seats, craning their necks to try and catch a glimpse of the small blonde haired boy they both adored. It didn't help that they were all similarly dressed in John Lennon style outfits, with round glasses partially hiding their faces. It was Ruth who spotted him first, a massive grin claiming her face as she watched him sing and sway to the music with his class mates. In her excitement, she had automatically reached out and captured Harry's hand, squeezing his fingers as she momentarily took her eyes from the stage and pointed him out to Harry. 

"He's the fourth one in from the left," she murmured, above the singing.

"How did you manage to find him when they all look so alike?" he asked incredulously.

She was saved from answering when the woman in front of them turned and offered an amused smile. "A mother can always tell which one is hers. Don't worry," she said to Harry, "my husband once failed to recognise our son on stage without fancy dress!"

"Oh e-er..." Ruth began to stutter an explanation, realising as she did so that it was too late; the woman had already turned back to the stage, unaware of the impact her words were having on the couple sat behind her

Having accused Ruth of being broody not so many minutes previously, Harry reasoned that it was somewhat hypocritical of him to now be entertaining thoughts of them having a child together, but he couldn't help it. Their nosy companion in front had planted a seed which was now blossoming as he pictured them with a little girl, who looked adorably like Ruth.

Ruth watched him out of the corner of her eye and wished, not for the first time, that she knew what he was thinking. There was an expression of longing on his face and she wondered briefly if his thoughts had followed a similar path to her own. She was stopped from speculating any further by the sound of applause and looked up just in time to see Wes trooping off the stage.

Dropping Harry's hand, she rushed to join in the applause, enthusiastically clapping as if she was trying to be heard above the din and making her hands sore in the process.

Mercifully, the interval followed soon after Wes's appearance and they were able to extract themselves from the throng of the crowd and disappear backstage. By unspoken agreement, they sought out Wes and showered him with praise. All too soon, however, they were told it was time to change in to their costumes for the start of the second act.

The pair of them slipped to one side, mingling amongst dozens of changing performers, and graciously turned their backs to each other as they began to dress. Cautiously, he turned around as he finished dressing, relieved – although not necessarily pleased – to find her fully dressed. He was still half fumbling his way into his shirt despite nervous thumbs slipping on buttons when he noticed a peculiar look on Ruth's face. She looked petrified, as if biting down on her emotion.

"Nervous?"

"Petrified. I feel sick," she admitted.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "You were wonderful earlier. I have every faith in you."

She returned his smile. "The show must go on, hey?"

---

Standing huddled just off stage, the jaws of Jo, Malcolm, Ros, Zaf and Adam had collectively dropped with military precision by the fourth line of the song. Rogue factions of the crowd were already wolf whistling Ruth and the routine was going down a storm, but more than that, the tension fizzing off the stage was like nothing they'd ever seen, even on the Grid.

Having missed the sexual foreplay that was their earlier rehearsal, the team were completely unprepared for the raw energy which seemed to emanate from the performance and there was a united gasp of breath as the song swelled to its ending and the final notes were sung with nearly touching lips.

"Bloody hell," whispered Zaf. "The book's closed."

---

Panting heavily, and after no less than 4 minute's continuous applause, Ruth and Harry left the stage, shaking with adrenaline.

For Ruth, it was almost more than she could take. The cocktail of emotions coursing through her were fast destabilising what was left of her composure, and the though of having to endure the stage with him – in his arms, no less – for another half an hour, was making the butterflies in her stomach attempt wild gymnastics. Both we making a slightly less modest and more rushed attempt to change costumes in time to be back on stage for the Nativity within the space of one song.

"Are you ok, Ruth?" he asked, noticing she'd come over all peculiar again.

She nodded; forced; jaw clamped shut.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again. "Hic!" She bit her lip as her hand clamped over her mouth. "No," she mumbled. "I should have mentioned earlier. I sometimes get the hiccups really badly when I'm nervous."

Tears were actually forming in her eyes as she spoke. "Oh God, I thought I'd be better once I got the first performance out of my system." She neglected to mention that certain elements of it were to blame for her even more heightened state. "Please, Harry, what am I going to do. Don't make me go on, I'm going to make a fool of us."

"Ruth," he placed an awkward hand on her shoulder, and the warmth of it was more than welcome. "You're not going to embarrass either of us. Have you tried taking some deep breaths?"

She nodded the affirmative.

"Holding your breath?"

She nodded again.

"Ok, I'm going to fetch you some water. Stay here."

She leant against a costume rail as she watched him leave, and visibly startled as it rolled away behind her under her weight. Even that didn't cure her hiccups, although at least the powers that be had had the good grace not to let Harry be watching as she made a fool of herself.

A minute later, he returned, plastic cup in hand. "Here, sip that slowly. We still have the rest of…" he strained his ears to listen and pulled a face "…the strangled cat's parade, then another number, then it's us."

She laughed, and let out another loud hiccup before beginning to sip.

"It's not working," she said, eventually, chucking her cup and a black rubbish bag. "I can't go on with the hiccups, it'll ruin everything."

"I only know one thing that always cures hiccups."

"What?"

"You have to totally forget about your breathing; just let go and not think about it at all."

"Okay? How do I do that?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course," she replied, thinking that was a bit of an odd question.

He nodded at her, as if still checking some unspoken understanding.

"Harry?"

"I'm sorry, Ruth, I didn't want it to happen like this."

His warm, broad palms felt firm and possessive against her cheeks, which flushed with nerves and excitement, and in an instant his soft, full lips were massaging against hers, gently insisting they part for him. She willingly acquiesced, although more than surprised at his actions, and almost sighed into his mouth as she felt the tip of his tongue move past her lips to explore her own. They continued in this fashion for some minutes, not really aware how long, only aware of the taste of each other's mouths, and the sensations they were creating with their rhythmic kisses and strokes of their tongue.

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**_Please review, we haven't got enough medication for me yet and if Kate has another mars bar, she'll need some too! _**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Ooops, very definitely not Xmas anymore - sorry! We'll get a move on!**_

* * *

As they kissed in the relative privacy of backstage, they were unaware that the penultimate act had just finished. Thoroughly consumed by the kiss that they had both waited so long for, they failed to notice that the curtains to their secluded partition were slowly being opened. 

Harry threaded his fingers through her silken hair as the kiss continued and was more then a little thrilled to hear her loud gasp as he did so. It was only as the applause started and the spotlight trained on them that he realised something was amiss. As they parted and squinted against the beam, they were both hit by the blinding realisation that they had been caught out.

In the wings, five spooks had almost passed out at the sight of their colleagues finally giving in to temptation. Even Ros had a smile on her face as she watched a bewildered Harry and Ruth try and shuffle out of the limelight. Much to their mutual relief, Adam strode onto the stage, forcing the spotlight to focus on him as he announced, in his most serious narrator's voice, the opening lines of the Nativity.

---

There was a loud thud as the applause died following their performance and, unusually, it was Harry who had made the sharpest exit. Ruth followed to find a dress maker's dummy toppled with a broken shoulder, discarded against the wall.

"Harry?"

She stepped into the corridor and found him pacing the end of it whilst also managing pull on some trousers under his robe as if ready to make a retreat.

"Harry!?"

"I'm so sorry, Ruth, I really am. I just wanted to help your hiccups and then…shit, I've ruined everything."

It was an interesting role reversal to watch him so tongue tied, and for her to feel to strangely liberated and confident.

"Harry, stop pacing."

He did as he was told, abruptly so.

"Sorry."

"And stop saying sorry."

"Sorry."

She looked at him and rolled her eyes.

"You want to know the truth?" she asked. He nodded. "It was awful. It was humiliating, embarrassing, mortifying." She paused, and watched him. "And I'd do it again, right now."

His eyes snapped to hers.

"But you were only trying to cure my hiccups," she commented, with a smile in her voice, and turned back down the corridor.

She had managed to take five steps away from him, each one an effort since all she wanted to do was to turn back around and kiss him again. Seemingly out of nowhere, an arm shot out in front of her and came to rest on the wall beside her, stopping her in her tracks and then suddenly he was in front of her, warm body pressing close to hers. The look of raw need in his eyes was overwhelming as he spoke.

"It wasn't just about the hiccups," he took a step closer, effectively steering her closer to the wall. "I think you know that, Ruth." Another step and she would be against the wall, "Don't you?"

She was pinned between the wall and his body and could feel the effect that being this close to her was having on him. A flash of desire raced through her body and she gave in to the impulse to grind herself against him slightly as she leant up and whispered "yes" into his ear. She moaned as he pushed himself against her more fully, seconds before he captured her mouth in an intense kiss. He kissed her as if his life depended on it, showing her the depth of passion and love that he had kept bottled up inside for so long.

So caught up in their kiss they missed the lone figure that stood at the top of the corridor and watched them silently. Quietly, Malcolm turned back the way he had come and joined the rest of the team.

"Did you find them?"

"No. They must be out front already," he lied.

"Either that or they've gone to ding dong merrily on high, if you catch my drift," Zaf said, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Jo and Ros both smacked him reflexively for the comment. "Ow! Bloody hell you two!"

Adam rolled his eyes and led the way out. "I can hear a pint calling me, come on Zaf, you can put that book money of yours to good use."

The others followed him out of the building and across the road to the pub, unaware that Zaf's comment had for once, not been far off the mark.

---

A tell tale line of clothing littered the floor, pieces of hastily removed costumes strewn in between shoes and boots that already covered the tiles in the hallway. A cord belt could be found half way up the stairs, limply hanging from the banister where it had been discarded in haste. Almost like a ginger bread trail the discarded garments continued a shirt here, a robe there, all up the stairs and across the landing, entwined with each other, just like their owners.

---

The next morning, comatose and still wrapped together, they were woken by the shrill ringing of Harry's phone.

"Mmm, morning," Ruth whispered against his mouth, her brain still sleep fogged and trying to ignore the ringing.

"Do you know where my trousers are?"

She made an indeterminable noise. "Morning to you too."

He laughed, and kissed her whilst somehow simultaneously swinging himself out of bed. "You know it's probably work," he said, with a knowing look, and she nodded sympathetically.

Her sympathy gave way to a smile as he left the bed naked, and then to laughter as she heard him out on the landing, fumbling around and swearing as the ringing continued and evidently the trousers containing said phone were nowhere to be seen.

"Try the banister," she shouted through her giggles.

The ringing stopped and she realised she must have been right.

---

Harry answered the phone in his usual no-nonsense manner, the only change from the usual being that this time around, he was secretly smiling and didn't seem able to stop. "Pearce. Speaking?"

"Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry! They reviewed the play in the local paper!!"

"Wes!?"

"They said that my school were really good, and they mention you and Auntie Ruth," he squeed!

Harry chuckled at the infectious enthusiasm of his early morning caller and padded back into the bedroom as Wes chattered on about the review, "It says you have chemistry together but I don't understand what science has got to do with it."

"You'll understand when you're a bit older," Harry said, wisely, his smile still firmly fixed in place as he slid back under the covers and felt the warmth of Ruth's body next to his.

"That's what Daddy said." Fed up with not getting a proper answer, Wes changed topics. "Are you busy today Uncle Harry?"

He looked at Ruth longingly and tried to think of an appropriate way to let a nine year old boy down. Stating that he was going to work on his 'chemistry' with Ruth was definitely not something he could say.

"Um, well..."

Evidently, Wes took Harry's lack of an excuse to mean that he was free and the youngest Carter hurriedly invited him to go and sing carols by candlelight that evening.

"Oh, right. Well, I'll check that we, I mean I'm not doing anything and then..."

"It's ok Auntie Ruth can come too. Got to go, my breakfast is ready. Bye!"

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**_Please review xx _**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Aw, last chapter guys. But at least we can focus on Cancun when we get a spare minute together in our v busy schedules.  
**_

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The church was bright and riotously noisy as they entered, searching above the sea of young heads for Wes. It had been some years since Ruth had attended a Christingle, and she remembered the excitement they used to generate when she was a child. It was nice to know that some things were still the same.

It was Harry who spotted them, nestled to the left hand side, but surrounded by scores of other families. In fact, the church was practically full, and so it was decided that they would go and say hello to their honorary nephew and then take some of the few remaining seats on the pews at the very back of the church.

"You came!" exclaimed Wes, as his auntie and uncle appeared at then end of the wooden bench. Adam appraised them, scrutinising the changes between them since last night. Ruth shuffled slightly nervously.

"Of course," Harry chuckled, and gave Wes a wink. "I think we've got to sit at the back though, but if they make you walk all the way around the church when you collect your Christingle, like they did in my day, make sure you come and show it off."

Ruth laughed.

"What?"

"When you say 'in my day', Harry, you add 20 years onto your image."

"Well how would you like me to say it?" he huffed. "When I was younger and I went to Christingle services…" he continued to mumble alternatives as she suggested they take their seats, rolling her eyes at Adam, and nearly giving the game away completely when she made to reach for Harry's elbow.

An amused grin settled on Adam's face as he watched them walk up the aisle towards the back of the Church; he wasn't sure who they thought they were fooling but he could tell from their relaxed postures that things had changed between them. He caught a brief glimpse of Harry's hand coming to rest on the small of her back before Wes demanded his attention.

Their pew was relatively small and private since it was dissected by a stone pillar, and they were pleased not to have to share with anyone else. He ushered Ruth in first; sitting down beside her once she had made herself comfortable. He watched her fiddle with the candles in front of them for a moment before reaching out and capturing her hand with his.

"Stop fidgeting," he murmured, lovingly, against her ear and brought their joined hands to rest in his lap.

"I'm trying to make sure we won't set that girl's hair on fire when we light it!"

"Oh, I thought you were nervous about something, sorry..."

"What do I have to be nervous about when we're at a Carol service?" she asked, amused. "Unless you're planning something I don't know about?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "We're in a Church, Ruth. I may find you irresistible but there is a line."

She laughed, softly, and gave his hand a small squeeze. "Well I can't say I'm not disappointed..."

He looked at her in disbelief and she had to cover her mouth with her other hand to stop from laughing out loud at the look on his face. Before he could reply, the lights dimmed and everyone hastily lit their candles.

---

The organ reverberated as the music struck up, and Ruth snuggled into Harry's side as they hunched over the hymn sheet with their candle. He looked down on her and smiled as she sang, watching her instead of paying attention until a small yelp filtered through the soft singing of Silent Night.

Ruth's face had turned to an anguished expression, one which he knew as the face she pulled when she was trying not to swear. Her eyes watered and she bit her lip.

"Ruth?"

"Wax," she managed to groan, as quietly as possible, trying to set the candle down somewhere safe. He took it from her quickly and blew it out, not caring that they now hand nothing to read by. They would have to make do with the soft yellow glow of other people's.

"I'm ok," she whispered. "Really, it was mainly just the shock. It only stings a little."

Tenderly, he lifted her left hand and held it up as best he could to the faint light. There was a short, thin line of wax on the back of her hand by her thumb, and a couple of specks of it elsewhere. Gently, he peeled the setting shape away from her skin and lightly blew a cool breath across it before placing his lips carefully into contact with the slight burn.

She shuddered at his touch; the lingering of slight pain coupled with the tingling of his feather light touch was beautiful and she instinctively moved her hand a little as he moved his lips so that his kisses traced a line until they found the pulse point of her wrist. His mouth parted a little, lips and the tip of his tongue exploring the delicate area. She was suddenly grateful for having sat at the back and had to fight to remind herself where they were and why they were here as his mouth moved with wider, open kisses down the inside of her forearm.

"I think I'm better," she whispered, somewhat regrettably. "Although I might need to see the consultant again later," she added.

There was just enough light for her to make out the satisfied smile on his face as he lifted his mouth from her skin. He stretched his arm across her shoulders and pulled her into his side, his lips brushing against her temple softly as he murmured his agreement that a thorough examination would be needed later.

Contented, they snuggled together in the pew and let the service happen around them. The soft glow of the candle light and the sweet sound of the congregation singing surrounded them and Ruth let herself happily reflect on her feelings for the man whose arms currently encircled her. She couldn't remember a time of ever feeling so protected or loved and as the singing roused to a loud crescendo she felt herself getting emotional.

She had snuggled herself closer and Harry turned to her, his smile faltering as he noticed the unshed tears welling in her eyes. "Ruth..."

His mouth seemed to caress her name as it tumbled from his lips and the sound of it brought a genuine smile of happiness to her face, despite the tears that escaped and ran down her cheek. "I'm fine Harry, just a little overwhelmed."

"Oh sweetheart, don't cry." His thumb swept under her eye and caught another tear that was threatening to fall. "It's Christmas, you're supposed to be happy."

"I am happy." He looked thoroughly confused and she took pity on him. "For the first time, I have everything I've ever wanted for Christmas."

He leant down and pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss. "Me too."

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**_Please review, we hope you've enjoyed this fic. _**_**Thanks for being lovely readers and reviewers, love Em and Kate xx**_****


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